


Same Old Lang Syne

by AHS



Series: Songfic Series 2 (Same Old Lang Syne) [1]
Category: Actor RPF, Queer as Folk (US) RPF
Genre: Gale pov, M/M, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-05
Updated: 2008-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:53:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AHS/pseuds/AHS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gale pov, Dec. 24, 2009.  After almost five years of no contact, the boys run into each other.  Based on the lyrics to the song "Same Old Lang Syne" by Dan Fogelberg.  Part 1 of 3-part series.  (NOT a continuation of Songfic Series 1. Completely different story.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Same Old Lang Syne

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I made this up.
> 
> Lyrics and Same Old Lang Syne song sample here: http://www.danfogelberg.com/sameoldlangsyne.html

_Dec. 24th, 2009..._

What the fuck was I doing out in weather like this? What the fuck was I doing out at all on Christmas Eve night? And what the fuck was I doing in Brooklyn? I asked myself all these questions as I slammed the door of my rental car, shoved my hands into my coat and the insulation of my armpits, and hurried inside the stupid grocery store, shaking snow off my body with my shivering.

The answer… to the first two, at least… was that I’d had to get out of that house. Just a little too much family perfection for “Uncle Gale” to stomach after a while. I hadn’t uttered a swear word aloud in nearly forty-eight hours, and a joint hadn’t touched my lips in longer than that. This _not_ being a bad influence was exhausting, and I was going to reward myself with the greasiest snack foods available and much beer.

While I was there, I figured I’d pick up some ice cream for the rugrats or something, so I made my way to the frozen foods section. I was just lamenting my newly acquired warmth disappearing with the opening of the freezer door when I heard the muzak version of _Jingle Bell Rock_ that was being piped throughout the store acquire a singer.

“ _What a bright time, it’s the right time, to rock the night away…”_

And it was the closest to feeling at home I’d felt in days… maybe years… because I knew that voice. My eyes followed it about twenty feet and landed on rhythmically swaying hips… even more familiar. His hair was covered by a hat, but there was no doubt it was him. My whole body was buzzing in awareness.

But my mind was stuck on, what are the fucking odds? Even though I knew, logically, he did live in Brooklyn. I knew that much from Scott, who heard it from Peter, who still talked to him… unlike me.

I didn’t wait to second guess or consider sneaking away unseen. I felt myself fucking physically drawn closer, quiet footsteps coming up behind him, until I could reach out and touch his sleeve.

“Randy.”

His unconscious singing stopped, he turned quickly around, and I swallowed a gasp at how _good_ he looked. His face stayed so expressionless, however, I started to wonder if he didn’t recognize me. But slowly his eyes widened and so did his grin.

“No shit.”

I’d just started to laugh at that when he launched himself at me, arms open, dropping his shopping basket in the process. He heard the crash, but we both just laughed harder as he hugged me, and I squeezed him back and felt like I’d stepped into a time machine. I whispered something along those lines into his ear, and we kept laughing, so hard that we both got a little teary.

At least, I guess that’s why.

I bent down and scooped up Randy’s fallen items for him, while he stood there with his hand over his mouth, valiantly trying to say something.

“What- I mean… What are you…”

“Doing here?”

He nodded.

“Uh… are you in a big hurry to get home, or do you have a few minutes… to talk?” I realized that was a stupid question to ask on Christmas Eve. “It’s the holidays, what am I saying, of course you…”

“Of course…” he interrupted, “I have time for you. Let me just check out, okay?”

Then I nodded, dumbly… gratefully… and followed him to the checkout stand. I’d left my basket back where I’d been standing when I first saw him, but I didn’t really care anymore. I grabbed a six-pack of beer on the way to the front and was all good.

We stood there in the line, a bit… embarrassed, or maybe that was just me. He was zipping his card through the little machine while I tried not to stare at him, instead examining his groceries as they were placed into paper sacks. No frozen foods. I probably distracted him before he was done shopping. Carrots, naturally. Some fancy wine, fancy pasta. Ridiculously overpriced bottled water and bread that was apparently sliced some special way. Mixed in with good ol’ JIF peanut butter and the cheapo cheese puffs I got him hooked on and fucking Frosted Flakes and milk.

He looked curiously at me when I snickered, but I just paid quickly for my beer and hurried forward to carry one of his two bags.

“Fuck!” I yelled involuntarily when we stepped outside. “Forgot how cold it was.”

“My car’s right there.” Randy pointed to some silver car I’d never seen him in, in the nearest row of spaces. “You want to… sit for a while? The heat works, I promise.”

The mischief in his voice reminded me of that old car he used to have in Toronto, with the broken heater. But then I kept remembering… how we used to keep each other warm in it. The memory hit his eyes as well, and he was at his car, opening his trunk, within seconds. Man, he could always walk fucking fast.

Once the groceries were put away and we were sitting in the front seats, not two feet apart… we didn’t know what the fuck to say to each other. Running into an old lover is always awkward, let alone one who had also been your coworker, best friend, and… what? There wasn’t a word for all that Randy had been to me.

“Sorry,” he finally sighed, after we’d both been guilty of silent staring for about a minute. “I should take you out for a drink or something, but… it’s Christmas Eve. Nothing’s open.”

“Who needs a bar?” I pulled my six-pack from the small bag at my feet. Handed him a can, already nice and cold, and opened one for myself.

“Thanks,” he said, then switched to, “Fuck. Gale, it’s Christmas Eve. What are you doing in Brooklyn? What are you doing on this side of the country?”

“I have a friend who lives here.”

He smiled much too widely then, and I could see the sting. “I take it you don’t mean me.”

I could feel it, too. “Just an old school friend I’ve kept in contact with. He and his wife, for some unknown reason, made me godfather to their kids. You probably… I think I mentioned them to you before. Hailey’s almost seven now, so she would’ve been born when…”

“Yeah, I remember. Your friend… Mark, right?”

“Yeah,” I said, surprised Randy remembered his name. “I was at loose ends, so they invited me for Christmas.”

“Not seeing your family?”

“Saw my sister at Thanksgiving. Might spend New Year’s in North Carolina with my dad.” I chose not to mention the girlfriend, now ex-, I’d had plans with, because she really wasn’t worth mentioning. “What about you?”

“In a few days. For now, I’m just… at home.”

“With…?” I did not want to say _that_ name. I’d spent so many years trying to get it out of my consciousness. But I had to ask. “You still living with Simon?”

“Yes… I am.”

“Wow. That’s great, really great. Just as in love as ever, huh?”

Randy nodded _slightly_ , but he looked away and started playing with the pull-tab on his beer. “Simon takes good care of me.”

“It’s like nothing’s changed.” I heard the bitterness in my own voice, and I know he did, too. I coughed, shaking it off, and tried to shift my legs. His car was comfortable, but my legs were bunched up and didn’t have room…  


His hand brushed my knee, and suddenly I didn’t need the heater anymore. That hug inside had been so unexpected, and through layers of coats, but this slightest touch made me realize how starved my body had been for contact with his all these years. Of course, he was just reaching under my seat to move it back so I would have more room. I mumbled my thanks, and then we just looked at each other.

“God, Gale, I can’t-”

“Randy, you really-”

He giggled at our overlap and then nodded at me. “You go.”

“You look… amazing.”

“Amazing?”

He repeated the word as if to deny, doubt pulling his gaze down. I reached a hand to his face, holding it carefully, studying. He still looked so young, though the layer of scratchy-soft hairs under my touch worked to combat that fact.

“Yeah. And I fucking can’t believe you finally grew some decent facial hair. Whenever you tried before, it always looked like a twelve year old’s first pubes on your chin.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Randy laughed and hit my shoulder with his beer can, which sloshed over the side a little. Then he got rather quiet and still. “I knew I was remembering right. Your eyes. Knew I wasn’t making up all those colors.”

I blinked. “ _Your_ eyes are…” I started before I could stop myself, but at least I stopped before the rhapsodizing began.

“Still blue?” he supplied, unimpressed with himself.

“Painfully so.”

In those eyes, I saw some mixture of gratitude and apology, but he would see honesty in mine. Might as fucking well be honest. We might not have seen each other in four… nearly five years, but I just knew he could still read me like he always could.

I pulled the hat from his head and stroked the dark blond silk of his hair into place. “The years have been a friend to you, my friend.”

“I’m thirty-two.”

I loved how he said that like it was a tragedy. He was and is, despite years of indignance at the fact, too fucking cute for words.

“And how old does that make me?”

It only took him a second, and then his mouth fell open dramatically. “Shit, I forgot. Gale, you’re _forty_.”

“I know.” And I knew he hadn’t really forgotten. I’d received birthday presents from him every year, as he had from me. It was the one form of almost-contact that we’d allowed.

He squinted at me, then turned on the interior light above our heads, the streetlight outside no longer sufficient to see me by. Then he carded a hand through my hair, leaning close, apparently checking for grays. It took him a while, but…

“One!… Hmm, that’s all I-… Wait, two!”

It was starting to feel too good… his fingers playing over my scalp, gently tugging my hair… so I smiled and pushed his hand away. “Randy, I get it. I’m old.”

“You’re not old. You look _amazing_ … as always. Actually, even better than always. I guess. I mean, our ‘always’ was a long time ago…” His words faded, and I could feel him mentally trying to take half of them back. “Those really are the only ones I see.”

I joked, to put him at ease. “Why didn’t you yank ’em out for me while you were, uh…?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. For every gray hair you pull, you get like five new ones. At least, that’s what my mom says.” Beyond his smile, his eyes suddenly shaded with both pride and hurt. “You know, she’s actually the one who showed me your book?”

“Oh… yeah? So, when I sent you one for the big 3-2, you already had it?”

“Not signed. Thanks.” He almost didn’t say more, but then he whispered, “ _I miss you, too._ ”

At his reference to the words I’d written in his present, I swallowed hard, only able to say, “Did you like it?”

“Yes. Your photographs are beautiful, Gale. You’re apparently doing really well with them, and I know it’s something you love. But… are you really not acting at all anymore?”

“Really not.”

“Not even a quiet little play every now and then? San Francisco has good theatre.”

“I know. I’m not interested.”

“Gale…”

“I’m not you, Randy. It’s cradle to the grave with you. You eat, sleep, breathe it. Me… I _wasn’t_ an actor longer than I was one. Now I’m not again.”

“Bullshit. You _are_ an actor. One of the best I’ve ever seen. Now, maybe you try different things. Maybe it’s fluid, like your sexuality. But, also like sexuality, it’s always there. It’s just a part of who you are, and you can’t hide from it forever.”

I wondered if we were going to get into that. I didn’t want to go back to him accusing me of hiding. Not after five years of nothing. Not with him finally here with me. I wanted to be able to just keep watching him… watching him smile at me. Couldn’t we go back to that?

“It just makes me sad to think you’ve let that part of yourself… die.”

“I guess without you, it just wasn’t the same.”

That didn’t bring his smile back. “You’re blaming me?”

I sighed. “No. I’m just saying… nothing was the same without you.”

“Oh.”

Being with Randy again, it was like a lifetime had passed, and yet no time at all. We still had that instant comfort level, but our self-imposed separation was a piece missing from our relationship. It was like the last several years didn’t even make sense to me anymore because he hadn’t been in them. Like I hadn’t quite been aware of how big the hole in my life was until he was there beside me and I could hear his echo.

We could still talk to each other, laugh with each other, and being this close to him still sparked fires on my skin. But there was this… emptiness. It had been living inside both of us, and just sharing space again wasn’t enough to erase all that time and reach beyond it. It was closing in.

Without even noticing, I’d opened another beer. “We should toast.”

He seemed relieved by the distraction of my suggestion. “What should we toast to?”

I thought about it. “To our days of innocence… and not so innocence.” We tapped our cans together, making more of a _click_ sound than a _clink_.

“And… to now?” Randy added, question mark in his voice. My answer depended on if he meant our lives _now_ , or this moment _now_.

“To time, and how the fucker keeps going, with or without us… To a merry Christmas and a happy new year.”

“Auld Lang Syne.”

“What?”

“The song,” he said, sounding suddenly melancholy. “‘ _Should old acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind._ ’That’s us.”

“You honestly think I forgot about you, for even a day?” He couldn’t think that. He fucking knew I…

“Do you think I forgot about you?”

……No. “Well, you recognized me, so I guess not completely.”

“Gale, you don’t go through what we did… you don’t find what we found… and forget.”

It shouldn’t have made me happy to realize he was as fucked up as I was, but it did. “You wanted to try.”

“No, I…” He struggled for the right words. “I couldn’t imagine… I couldn’t fathom how hard it was going to be. How different it was going to be. Show over, living so far apart. New chapters were starting in our lives.”

“You had Simon.”

“And you always had… someone. I thought it was how things needed to be. You said you agreed.”

“Yeah, I did,” I admitted, small words heavy with regret. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

I pointed to his car’s clock. “It’s after midnight. Merry Christmas.”

“Shit, is it that late?”

“You should be getting home.” Statement, not a question. I could feel our time running out again.

“…I should be.”

“Before Simon has the National Guard out looking for you.”

“Your friends are probably wondering where you are, too.”

“Nah, they’re busy putting Barbie’s Dream House together or something. I told them I might be out wandering for a while. That’s why I drove ten miles to this store instead of going to the one two blocks from their place.”

“And ran into me.”

“I know. It’s right up there with two Atlanta boys finding each other...”

“…on a show filmed in Toronto. I know. Fucking fate.”

At that cue, Randy’s cell phone rang. I didn’t have to ask.

“Hey… No, I’m fine. It was just crowded. Lots of people last minute shopping… I’ll be home soon… And I’ll be careful… Yes, Merry Christmas.” When he hung up, he looked at me somewhat apologetically. “I just didn’t know what to-… I didn’t want to get into a big…” He sighed. “I guess I can still hardly believe it… that you’re here with me right now. I’ll tell him as soon as I see-…”

“Don’t worry about it.” My beer was empty, and I’d run out of ways not to ask the question we were left with. _Now what?_ Were we seriously supposed to go back to no contact?But I didn’t want to ask, because then he would answer, so I decided it was time to get out of the car.

“Gale, wait…”

I’d made a move to open my door, and he’d reached around me, gripping my far shoulder to physically keep me there. Then his head dipped a little, forehead resting against my other shoulder, just inside my open coat. My hand came to the back of his neck and just held.

“Randy.”

He made a slight unhappy noise, low in his throat, when I said his name. Even out of practice as I was with his sounds, I correctly interpreted the complaint.

“ _Rand_ ,” I amended, and his left hand tapped happily on my chest, finding my heartbeat through a couple layers of shirt and sweater. I cleared my throat, my next words not coming out as easily. “You have to go.”

He raised up and looked at me, his mouth just a few inches from mine… and I knew I was in trouble when he said, “Okay.”

The distance didn’t exist anymore, and his lips were pressing, lightly sliding over mine. His tongue barely touched mine, a flick of teasing soft and then gone… and…

Shit.

It was completely fucking official. The last five years of my life had been for _shit_ , because thiswas everything I really fucking wanted. He felt the same as I remembered, and he tasted the same, and that meant he was still mine.

So why didn’t I dive in? Why did I pull away, run one hand over his cheek, and mutter something about “old times’ sake”? Why did I smile when really I wanted to fucking cry at losing him all over again?

I gathered the remains of my beer, full and empties. Put my gloves back on and buttoned up my coat. He was writing something on the back of his grocery receipt, which turned out to be _their_ address, which he put in my coat pocket.

“If you want to come by… before you leave,” he said.

“Sure.” But I knew I wasn’t going to.

“Okay… God, it was… so good to see you.”

“You, too, Rand,” I managed. “And… drive safe.” The snow was really coming down.

“I promise if you do.”

I nodded, not wanting to say goodbye. So, I didn’t. “Later.”

He smirked through tears. “Later. Merry Christmas.”

Tearing my eyes away from him, I got out of the car. Possibly slammed the door behind me, frustrated by my apparent inability to take hold of the gift fate was giving me and make it last. I stood there, all shrugged shoulders and shifting feet, like some clueless, lovelorn schoolboy… which is pretty much what I was… and watched him back out, an old familiar pain in my gut.

He started to drive away, but then the car stopped and his window went down. “Gale!” he shouted.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not going to come by, are you?”

Well, I’d been right. He still knew me. “No.”

“Okay then. Meet me on top of the Empire State Building. Valentine’s Day.” Randy grinned a 200-watt grin, and then he really did drive away.

What? It took my brain a minute to process the reference and call up the Cary Grant movie. Affair To Remember. They were supposed to meet on top of the Empire State Building on Valentine’s Day, just like Randy…

Was he serious? Or was it just something cute and goofy and _Randy_ to say? I threw away the empty cans, then headed to my car, wondering. I dusted the snow off the windshield and hurried inside, reaching for the heat, too busy replaying every second of him in my head to give a fuck that I hadn’t gotten any food. And as I left the parking lot and turned -- in the opposite direction from Randy -- the snow turned into rain.

It wouldn’t be until three days later… almost as soon as I’d gotten back home to San Francisco… that I would get the call.

_“Randy… Harrison? He’s in the hospital, Gale. I think it’s… bad.”_


End file.
